


Don’t Threaten Me with A Good Time

by Piratx



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Alternate universe - Mafia, Anal Sex, Assassination, Blood and Violence, Canonical Character Death, Drug Addiction, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Gunshot Wounds, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phsychedelic Dancing, Pole Dancing, Prostitution, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Doubt, Slow Burn, Smoking, Spying, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Trans Male Character, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24047938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piratx/pseuds/Piratx
Summary: As a dancer, Elliott saw and experienced many questionable things, therefore, he knew the handsome man who had become a regular of his was more than any regular Joe on the block.He gulped.But the barrel of the gun to the back of his head told more than he asked for.
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Mirage | Elliott Witt, Wattson | Natalie Paquette/Wraith | Renee Blasey
Comments: 9
Kudos: 58





	1. For Your Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

> ((Please read all the tags before continuing!!))
> 
> Hooooolllyyyy Shiiiittt. Writing TWMYLA gave me too much angst and I need to write something less,,, angsty for this pair. Doesn't mean there wont be any angst in here, as I am the master of it, but it'll be more uplifting. I stayed up till 3 am many nights doing research for this because this is out of my comfort zone. So lets see how this goes shall we.
> 
> I had to go back and reread some of my favorite mafia fics to get into the feel of things. I'm still gonna shit bricks writing this.
> 
> This is a short chapter as I am getting a feel for the fic still. I also wanted to establish most of the basic relationships that you’ll see throughout the fic. And as I said before, I’m still getting a feel for it so in the future I might rewrite parts of this chapter after I’ve had some practice with it.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy the forthcoming shit show.

Sun spilled from the partially open blinds, warmth flooding the room giving it a cozy atmosphere. There was a ball of covers on the bed, which shifted and groaned, a shaved tan leg sticking out as the person inside tried to untangle themselves from the mess that was created that morning.

A quick glance at the clock that read 2 in the afternoon, the man in the tangled sheets slowly sat up, their hair a curly mess.

Elliott Witt was not having a good day. 

He just woke up.

The shift from last night weighed in his limbs, his thighs protesting, his shoulders blazing, and the soles of his feet sore.

As soon as Elliott got home, he barely managed to take off his makeup before he crashed into his bed and slept through the morning, his bag of tips untouched and the money uncounted.

It had been a very busy night at the club, meaning Elliott - sorry, _Mirage_ \- had a lot of work to attend to. Being one of the personal entertainers of a work party always came with a lot of side entertainment. Like lap dances and getting a little more up close and personal than his job usually entitled, but if it meant extra tips slipped into the waistband of his shorts, then a little extra work wasn’t all that bad.

But damn, was it really worth the extra pains in the morning? He was only twenty-one, he really shouldn’t be feeling like his entire body was about to collapse in on itself at a moment's notice.

As Elliott made his bed so he could have a place to sit down and count all the extra cash he made the night before, he heard one of his flatmates run to the bathroom, and what sounded like retching all of their meals from the previous day. 

Elliott lived with a crackhead and a prostitute - not exactly the best of flatmates, but they were his flatmates nonetheless. Since dropping out of college and losing his dayjob, he doesn’t exactly have the extra cash to put into a slightly better living situation. Besides, Octavio wasn’t that bad, just loud.

Really, really loud.

Just as Elliott finished counting a stack of his tips, he heard Octavio crash into the wall by his door, grumbling a ‘puta madre’ under his breath as he tried to make his way to the kitchen. From what the brunette could tell, the other man was using his cane.

When all the cash was counted and wrapped tightly together and hidden away, Elliott grabbed his toiletries and went to the bathroom to take a quick shower and fix himself up well enough to leave the dingy apartment and get to the gym. Despite the protest deep in his bones, he still needed to keep with his routine and keep his looks sharp. His looks are what made him the money, not just the way he wrapped around the pole nicely.

In the shower, Elliott made sure to use his fingernails to really get to the roots of his hair, attempting and failing to get all the glitter out of his hair. His hair hasn’t seen a glitter-less day for the past year and a half. Just as he was getting ready to leave the bathroom, there was a pitiful knock at the door.

“Ey compadre, you leaving the bathroom soon? Necesito entrar.”

Opening the door for the other male - who looked absolutely trashed after whatever activities he indulged in the night before - stumbled in, his cane dropping to the floor as he slumped against the wall.

“You okay?” Elliott tilted his head so he could get a good look at the other’s face, who looked slightly white in the face.

Octavio was a wild mess. Elliott had known him since he started his Engineering course at their former university - Solace Institute - and the younger man has only gotten wilder as the years went on. His light blond hair dyed an obnoxious eye-catching green, piercings on either eyebrow, a septum hanging from his nose, while his stretched ears were decorated in many others. His light green eyes seemed clouded, but he had a smile on his face. 

“I think I injected too much last night.” He was barely able to finish the sentence before he threw up again, his hands wrapping around the toilet bowl. Elliott could only sigh, used to the display before him. Patting his shoulder as he left the bathroom, he chuckled.

“I’m going to the gym. Call me if you need anything.” Looking back, Octavio gave him a thumbs up before he had to bend back over the toilet.

Elliott worried for the other man; they were both young, they had a life to live, but only one of them knew the concept of self preservation. Octavio was constantly on the move, bar hopping, snorting mysterious substances, and meeting up with shady individuales to either buy or sell his merchandise. He had seen it first hand, had to step in once even, or else the guy would have bashed his face in. Octavio had even gotten into trouble at the club he worked in, during one of his routines, and had caused massive havoc that he got kicked out. It was a wonder how the kid hadn’t died yet, seeing as he could barely walk in the morning and somehow getting rid of all the substances of the night before like as if it were one of Elliott’s well practiced routines. The kid had all the money in the world waiting for him back at home and yet… he chose this life. 

Shaking his head with a sigh, Elliott barely managed to catch the bus that went further into the city, where his favorite gym was situated. 

The brunette waved at the employee at the front desk who giggled and waved back at him, her lashes fluttering as he made his way past her. The air was warm and a little suffocating, a little unusual due to the fact that they were experiencing cooler temperatures this time of year, but it might have been because of the Gym Rats that were all huddled by the dumbbells and upper arm machines. Paying no mind to them, Elliott flew by all his usual workouts, keeping his strength in his thighs and calves, which burned as he did his third set of squats. His upper arms usually didn’t hurt much while he worked on them, but after entertaining a party the night before, they were quite sore. 

By the time he was sweaty and ready to go home, almost two hours had gone by, and he still had to go back home and work on his newer routine. The pole back in his room was calling him. 

In the locker room Elliott pulled on a new shirt and sweatpants. It would be useless to take a shower to only sweat once more back home while he worked the pole. 

Just as he was walking out of the locker rooms, a hand smashed down on his upper back, causing him to practically choke on his own spit as he turned around. Coming face to face with a smug smirk and a wild afro, Elliott deflated, smiling at the familiar face before him.

“Hey, Anita.”

The woman in question smiled genuinely this time, her hand coming down to rest on her hip.

“I haven’t seen you around in a bit, what's up with that?”

Anita Williams was someone who had saved his ass a few times. They had originally met at the club Elliott worked at, after a close incident where a customer got too handsy and tried following Elliott home one night. A sucker punch from her fist to their face ended up in an unconscious pushy asshole and a pleased former marine. The older woman got along well with him, and would work out together when they found each other to be at the gym at the same time.

Their friendship was a weird one, but appreciated nonetheless.

“You know, same stuff. Been working more recently so I’ve been cutting myself some slack on when I’d come to the gym. Wanted to get it over with today- my thighs are burning after last night.” 

Anita only chuckled, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “I bet. You are basically working out the whole night, your muscles just keep on growing.” Rolling his eyes, Elliott played with his phone in his pocket, fingering the edge of the case. 

“And the family?” Anita asks as they walk to the front of the gym, where they both wave at the receptionist, who bats her eyes at Elliott and he can’t help but wink back at her. They stay outside in the breezy weather, the sun shining bright and making their skin glisten due to the sweat.

“Oh you know, the usual. Got to take ma to the clinic later in the week to get checked out. Says she is experiencing random bouts of forgetfulness, but I’m sure she is fine. She _is_ a Witt after all.” Flipping his hair back, Elliott hums, his eyes scanning the street before they land back on Anita. “My eldest brother is expecting. Finally.” 

Anita lets out a low whistle, chuckling as she gives the brunet a once over. 

“Uncle Elliott.”

“Oh god, stop.” Lightly pushing Anita away by her shoulder, trying to appear distraught. “I’m getting old.” 

Anita smiles at him and laughs freely before she goes completely serious, her hand reaching out to grab a strand of his hair.

“Is that a fucking grey hair?” 

Panic shoots through Elliott, reaching up to snatch the strands she holds in her fingers to bring them close to his eyes. 

They were as brown as chocolate could be.

“Oh my god. I hate you.”

Anita laughs truly at that, her hand coming down to rest on her hip as she wipes sweat off her brow. Her smile is bright and eye-catching in the sun, a twinkle in her eye winking back at him as she laughs.

“You are so easy to tease.” 

Elliott tried to pout, but gives up when his face cracks a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with humor. 

“Hey listen, it was great seeing you, we have to actually schedule a time one of these days so we can outdo each other” He hears Anita mumble a ‘not physically possible’ under her breath, but he ignored it, “but I gotta get going. When I left Octavio was in pretty bad shape, I gotta go check up on him.”

Anita slams her palm against his shoulder, jerking him forward a bit, a smirk plastered on her features. 

“Take care, you hear me? Call me if you have a creep I need to take care of.” 

“Of course.”

The bus ride back home is uneventful, and Elliott gets back home in one piece. The first thing he does when he gets back home is knock on Octavio’s door, hearing him shuffle from within before he opens it, smiling as if that morning never happened.

“Amigo, how’d it go?” The shorter male grabs the doorframe, a slight wobble in his step, his cane by his bedside.

Octavio actually looked fine. He was smiling, he seemed like he had showered, and he had a blunt in his other hand.

The man seemed perfectly fine.

“It went well. Saw Anita again while I was leaving. Didn’t see her the entire time so she must have been training someone.” Peering into the room, everything seemed messy like usual. “I just wanted to check up on you, since you seemed to be puking your guts before I left earlier.”

Octavio assures Elliott that he was fine and that there was nothing to worry about. He offered the brunet to smoke with him but Elliott politely declined, since he needed to practice one of his newer routines.

Shedding his shirt and switching into shorts, he connected his phone to his Bluetooth speaker, making sure the volume isn’t too high to wake up his other flatmate, and turned the pole around in his hands. Evening out his breathing, he lifts himself onto the pole, feeling the burn in his biceps as he turns lazily, wrapping his thighs around the cool metal so he could let go and lay back, warming up his muscles again. Closing his eyes, Elliott hummed along with the music, letting his body relax and let the music flow through him, his hands slowly finding the pole again to grip it tightly before he swung his legs to one side, letting himself twirl to the music.

Elliott continued to practice, slowly working up another sweat as he spun around, his thighs burning in the sweetest way possible. 

After a slow hour and a half, he went back to shower once more, getting ready for another night of work. It was a Friday night, so there was bound to be more people. Which meant more money. He was expecting a few of his regulars today, and in his mind Elliott could already hear his pockets and bank account singing.

In the shower Elliott tried once more but definitely failed to get any more glitter out of his wild mane, and he shaved his legs smooth. He also trimmed down there to be neat. The hot water soothed the muscles he worked up that day and put him at ease, his eyes sliding closed as he absentmindedly hummed the tune of the new song he was working with.

Once out and dry, he worked on his hair, using products to keep it out of his face but not enough to make it crusty and yucky. He liked his hair soft, thank you. 

Having three hours to spare, he watched a movie on his phone while he trimmed his nails and filed them, as to be safe and not nick any of his customers that night. At half past seven Elliott brushed his teeth and made sure his duffle was ready, putting a towel in there as he wanted to shower before he got home, that way he could count his tips and crash right after.

Elliott walked to work. It was nice to breath fresh air and not get into a stuffy, yucky bus. It was about a thirty minute walk from where he lived, but it wasn’t bad and he quite enjoyed the walks. Especially if he was being accompanied by his other flat mate, who would sometimes meet up with her clients at his club. 

A sigh of relief washed over the brunet as he saw Makoa standing at the door, who waved at him and wished him a good performance. Makoa had been the bouncer since even before Elliott joined. He was kind and was always willing to listen to the brunet if he ever had something on his mind that bothered him. His boyfriend of five years also worked as a stripper at the Paradise Lounge, so in some way, it was endearing. Makoa felt like he was protecting him in a job that could be dangerous with some perverted people as their audiences. 

The first dancer Elliott came across was Renee, already ready for her performance. 

“Looking good.” Winking at the raven, she only rolled her eyes, a small smile on her lips. 

“Thank you.”

Renee had joined the family a few months after Elliott. At first she had been very closed off, not very good at interacting with the rest of the staff, but she slowly opened up. It started with small, silent smiles here and there. Then small squeezes of the shoulder as she walked by, and soft spoken hello’s as dancers entered the back room. 

She was a mystery, and there was a lot to her that many of them didn’t know, but didn’t they all? She was always looking out at the audiences, being cautious but still doing her job. It had been a huge accomplishment to Elliott when she said that she felt like she could confide in him, but it took a few months after for her to actually have her open up to him. She wasn’t a bad person, nor was she weird. Elliott just had a feeling she had seen some things and was just going through a hard time. She was also a very paranoid person, and would constantly look over her shoulder even if it was just the two of them in a room. Renee brushed it off as it being a bad habit that she never was able to get rid of, but she would talk to herself sometimes, and Elliott could only guess that it was a little more than just simple paranoia. Not like he would say that to her- it wasn’t his place, even if they _were_ friends and they confided in each other when it came to sensitive topics.

Elliott has a friend in her, and she had a friend in him.

Hustling into the back room, Elliott dumped his bag in a locker before he sat down in front of a vanity to start on his makeup. Nothing special, but something to compliment his facial features. Friday nights got wild, and he was one of the favorites when it came to the public lap dances he's asked to do while cash was shoved into the waistband of his shorts. It was skimpy, but was there really anything else you’d want from a sketchy strip club? The Paradise Lounge wasn’t a high end club, but it still got its traffic, and was a favorite among the audiences. If you didn’t enjoy your first time at the club, people weren’t bound to visit again. It was a hate or love at first experience. Very seldomly they'd have a non-regular try the club out a second time around. 

Elliott wouldn’t have it any other way.

His outfit was a simple white wife beater with skin tight latex pants, with black heels he’d have to wear once he got on stage, but for now he could hang back a bit before he had to go out and entertain.

Ten o’clock rolled around and Elliott was halfway through a Pringle can when Rene- sorry, Wraith - walked back in. Sweat glistened on her forehead as she nodded at another dancer that left the room, slumping on the couch that was there and heaving a sigh, immediately taking off her heels and stretching them out onto the coffee table. 

“How bad is it out there?”

“They want you.”

“So… bad.” 

Wraith glared at him, before she signed, her fingers coming up to play with the hair that fell out of her signature bun. 

“It’s too rowdy out there.” A scream from outside the doors followed her sentence, a perfect example to what she was getting at. Mirage only sighed, bending down in his chair to lace up his boots, the heels giving him another six inches in height, making him six foot five. In his own opinion, it made him hotter.

Washing his teeth once more, Mirage dried his hand and walked back out into the lounge, watching as Wraith dug into a half eaten bag of Cheetos. 

“Good luck.” She said over a mouthful, giving him a thumbs up as he opened the door and slipped through, giving the dancers inside as much privacy as he could.

It was rowdy. Louder than usual. As Mirage rounded the corner, he could see why. Makoa’s boyfriend was serving drinks- off his chest. Mirage could only snort, walking past the display and giving the man a wink as they made eye contact. He made straight to the bar, where Marv was working and serving the drinks. Slinking himself over the counter, Mirage sent a wink towards two women who giggled behind their glasses, eyeing him up as he smiles slyly at them. He waved cheekily for a good measure.

“Hi friend! Good to see you again.” Marv’s polite voice called over the loud, pulsing music. “Could I get you anything before you make your rounds?” 

Marv was efficient in his work, his hands practiced at bartending, his bright smile and puppy eyes his signature look. 

“A shot of anything you got, please.” Marv nodded, and he got to work. 

Turning around, Mirage laid back onto the bar, his eyes scanning the club to see only a few new faces. It was mostly the usual. He couldn’t pick out any of his own regulars though. They usually came in later, when he was working the pole. 

Looking to the side, he saw Marv slide him a shot, who gave him a wink before he got to work on other orders. Grabbing the shot glass and gesturing towards the other male, Mirage took a breath and slammed it back, the liquid burning as it made its way down his throat smoothly. Damn, that was good.

Thanking the other silently, Mirage slinked his way across the club, brushing other people’s shoulders with his hands as he walked by, throwing them a wink if they looked his way. The music’s rhythm pumped in his blood, from the floor up into his body, and deep into his bones. It moved him, as Mirage could feel his hips sway, getting into it. Looking up at the stage, he could see one of the newer recruits working the pole. He was new and not the best yet, but he was trying.

Mirage was about to finish his second walkthrough of the main room when someone grabbed his wrist. Looking over, he saw a short girl smiling up at him, gesturing over to a party of six or seven. He walked over to them with the woman in tow, and he had to duck a bit so she could yell in his ear. 

“It’s her twenty-second birthday! We want to spoil her a bit, and we were hoping you could help us with that!” The brunet had a wad of cash, which she slipped into his waistband. Smiling at her, Mirage winked. He knew exactly what he could do to the poor soul who looked like she wanted to get swallowed by the floor in whole. The shy type. The best to mess with. 

Strutting over to the girl who sat very rigid, he bent over to grab the back of her chair, getting very close to her and smirking. 

“I heard it’s your birthday! Happy birthday!” He made a show of checking the girl out, who he could have sworn squeaked in humiliation. “Let me spoil you!” He waved a worker over and asked for a few shots on him, and turned back to the poor girl, whose face was on fire.

Spreading his legs, he sat in the girls lap and gave a firm roll of his hips, throwing his arms up into the air without breaking contact with the girl. Her friends all had their phones out, taking a video as she all but died under him. As per every birthday ritual he does, Mirage asks the girl to stand up and bend over the chair, which her girlfriends holler at, their laughter spiking. She does so, on shaky legs, and Mirage proceeds to grind on her backside. Hiding her face, the girl laughs nervously, the back of her neck a dark shade like the rest of her face. The routine up on stage was done by then, and Mirage could divert attention a little bit. 

“Hey everybody! We got a birthday girl in the house!” Yelling loud over the music, most of the people surrounding them turn around and divert their attention at the playful display of Mirage and the girl bent over. At that point, he is sure the girl is dead and has visited whatever afterlife there is, but to make sure, he gathers the girl in his arms and has her straddle his hips and he bounces her as he laughs, the drinks he ordered arriving just in time. Handing one over to the girl, they both take it at the same time, but she is barely able to function, and ends up choking on it instead. 

Once she is back in her seat, her friends huddled around her while they laugh, showing her the videos they took of her at different angles. They even have to fan her. The first woman who walked up to him thanks him once again, before he is allowed to walk off and find someone else to service. 

He is asked a few times about private lap dances and kindly informs them that he does them after his public pole routine, and that he would be happy to service them. Directing them over to another room where they can book a private dance from him, Mirage makes his way back to the lounge, sweat dancing on his skin as he enters the cool back room. 

The first thing he does is bag any tips he has already been handed and retouches his makeup to make sure it’s intact, before he has to go up on stage to do his routine.

“How was it?” Wraith asks, the bag of cheetos she had been eating from empty and tossed aside, her fingers licked clean from any evidence. 

“Fantastic.” Mirage replies happily, a bounce in his step as he leans over the back of the couch she occupies, a magazine open on her lap. “I’m about to go on stage, and after that I have a few pre scheduled private dances, and a few after that that were scheduled just now.”

“Look at that. You’re popular.” Wraith says dryly, but she laughs after, her fingers turning the page in her magazine.

“Sadly. My thighs are protesting.” Whining, he throws himself over the couch, getting all over Wraith who growled her displeasure. 

“Ew, you are sweaty, get off.” 

Mirage would have bothered her a little more if it hadn’t been for another dancer informing him that he was on in five.

Making his way out of the lounge to walk up backstage, Mirage is already getting into the mindset and hyping himself up. No matter how many times he has done this, he still gets a bit nervous. 

When his name is announced, the crowd cheers, and in the back of his mind, he wishes he was back home in bed. It’s only for a split second, but after that he is strutting out onto the stage and is waving, the music starting up and he gets himself into the moment. 

The music flows through his body, and his breath matches with the slow rhythm. Releasing the breath he had been holding in, he bends down to grab onto the lower part of the pole and slowly brought his legs up and around the pole above him, before he uses one hand to grab the pole by his legs and slowly goes into a split. As he did this, he exhaled just as slowly, and it was as if his heart was in rhythm as well. He was so into his routine, it wasn’t until he was hanging upside down again that he opened his eyes to look at all the people around him. _Watching him_. 

In the crowd he saw the same people he ever seen. He saw some of his regulars. He saw a pretty new face of a woman he’s never seen before. He saw an older man who should probably be at home with his wife. He saw some of his fellow coworkers. And he saw a man who’s stare bore into his soul, it almost made him lose his grip on the pole. 

Mirage looked back at the place where he had seen the man but he was gone. Chalking it up to it being his imagination, he finishes his routine, and showers in the tips that are thrown at him. 

God how his thighs hurt. 

And his night was nowhere near done.


	2. Lowlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could feel all the eyes on him, and sometimes it made him self conscious. Especially when he felt as if a certain stare stood out, burning holes in his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE CHECK THE UPDATED TAGS AND FIC WARNINGS!!!
> 
> Oh gosh, thank you so so much for all the love and support y’all have been giving this fic! It really encouraged me to churn out this chapter faster, so I hope you all enjoy.
> 
> Sorry, no Crypto yet, but he’ll be here shortly!
> 
> This chapter is not the best in my opinion. I still am unsure on how I want to write this, as I’m veering off my usual writing style.

Elliott gasped when his back hit the water.

His shift had just ended, after his last client tipped him off generously. People were slowly leaving the club as it came to a close, and the dancers were wondering around in their comfort clothes as the janitors started to clean up the place. 

It was early in the morning, a little after four, and the weight of a job well done rested comfortably in Elliott’s bones. 

After his public routine, the public had wanted a little bit more of Mirage and Wraith, so they had their own leisure dance at opposite sides of the room, entertaining their own little crowds until the managers told them to hop off. They shared the rest of the Pringle’s Elliott had brought to work that day to celebrate the extra cash that was going home with them that night, and they conversed lightly until Mirage had to go to his appointments in the back rooms. 

The first few clients were easy work, as they were regulars and Mirage knew exactly what they liked to see. The newer faces he experimented with, and even had to reprimand one when he wouldn’t keep his hands to himself, even though it was stated in the rules that they weren’t allowed to touch the dancers while getting a private show.

‘Mirage’ was a stripper, not a prostitute. 

It got tiring to have to repeat that. He was well aware that he was a sort of sex worker, and he got a bit up close and personal to his clientele, but that didn’t mean his body was free roam.

The groan that Elliott let out when the water was turned off, and he was hit with the cold air outside the shower, echoed in the room. The ache in his muscles were starting to truly set in, and the walk home wasn’t looking any more pleasant that it usually was.

In the locker room, it was mostly empty; most had gone home already, and the few that were there were just lingering and conversing. The backdoor was left ajar by a brick, Renee smoking a cigarette in the cool temperatures as she stared up into the sky, her shoulders down and her posture lax. It was mostly quiet, the loud, pulsing music that had been playing for hours completely absent. 

Gathering his things after he puts on a sweatshirt and sweatpants, Elliott quietly says goodbye to Renee and to the rest of the dancers, leaving them to their own thing. 

Wondering out of the lounge, he spots Marv having an issue carrying glasses back to the bar, so he helps the poor man out, who thanks him with a big smile and crinkling eyes. The man was too sweet for his own good.

Elliott wishes the brunet a goodnight, and heads to the front of the building, where he has to shove the door open. It’s hinges still hadn’t been oiled yet. 

The night had its pleasant chill. After so much heat and sweat, it was nice to feel a change in temperature, even after his cold shower. The wind softly ruffled through his hair as he readjusted the duffles straps in his shoulders. While turning around, he felt a light touch at his wrist, and Elliott inwardly sighed at most likely having to shoo another nosey, touchy customer asking to walk him home. Again. 

Turning around ready to do just that, he is met with seafoam eyes and a soft smile to match the soft gaze. The woman had red, flowing long hair, long earrings dangling from her ears, her getup all black and grey. 

“I’m sorry to bother, but is your manager here?” Her voice was somewhat soft to match her appearance. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, feet together with a tilt to her head, waiting patiently for his reply. 

Elliott has never seen her before. She was a fresh face around here - or at least, to Elliott she was - so hearing her ask for the manager confused him, but unless she was to complain about his performance in particular, it really was none of his business. 

“Which one?” Turning to completely face her, Elliott watched her intently. She hummed lightly, her hand coming up to brush her hair out of her face.

“Barker.” 

He was hoping that wasn’t the manager she was looking for. Was she perhaps past company of his? Oh stop it Elliott, it’s none of your business.

“I’m really sorry, but he already left. My other manager is still here though; I can let you in to talk to him.” As the words left her mouth, he saw the woman deflate, and in turn, made Elliott feel bad as if it was something he was at fault for. “I can leave him a note telling him that Miss-“ 

“Alexander,” she helpfully supplied.

“That Miss Alexander was looking for him tonight.” He wished he could do more, but she was trying to get into contact with the manager of the establishment, the one that was easily hard to miss. 

Alexander looked around, her hands fidgeting in her lap, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought about it. 

“You know what? It’s okay. I’ll come back tomorrow to see if he is in.” Alexander replied, her smile back on her face. “Once again, sorry to bother. Have a good night!” Turning around, she waved at him before she walked towards a sleek black car waiting for her. Elliott watched the car as it rolled off the curb and down the street, turning to the left and out of his sight. 

Signing, Elliott carded his fingers through his hair, feeling bad about not being able to help the girl out. Hopefully it was nothing important, or else he'll make his manager hear it. Irresponsible twit.

Starting his trek home, Elliott pulled out his phone as he inserted a single earbud, playing music from his list lowly, his other ear listening to make sure he wasn’t being followed home. Humming as he made his way down the street, Elliott was already thinking about the errands he would have to do the following day. The gym wasn’t a huge priority as he had gone earlier that day after he woke up, and the flat wasn’t in the best shape. So far his mental list was as follows: bank run, grocery shopping, cleaning, routine practice, and then chilling till he had to leave for his shift. Add a proper meal since he didn’t have one that day, and he should be good. 

When his apartment came into view, Elliott picked up his pace, his keys finding themselves in his hands before he even got through the first set of doors. Climbing the rickety stairs to the third floor, he inserted his keys in and turned slowly, hoping to not wake anyone up if either of his roommates were home early. 

Setting his keys down in the plate that was placed on the table by the door, he kicked off his shoes and beelined for his room, shedding his duffle at the foot of his bed before he traveled back out into the mini kitchen, making himself a bowl of cereal to help fight off the hunger. Taking it back to his room, Elliott dug in his duffle bag for his tip purse, which was all the way at the bottom underneath the dirty clothes, towel, and toiletries. 

Unzipping it and dumping it out in front of him, the brunet started to count slowly, taking notes on his phone after each hundred. When it was all said and done, Elliott read through the numbers he marked down and came to a total of four hundred. Sighing, Elliott flopped back and stared at the ceiling. Despite the extra work he did that day, he didn’t make the best of money. On a good day, Elliott will get seven hundred, if he was lucky. 

Four hundred. From that he had to subtract bills, food, memberships, and _fuck_ , his student loan. The reason he had to drop out of college in the first place. 

Heaving a heavy sigh, he sits up, refusing to worry. It was just one night. He had tips from the night before and the night before. He was constantly bringing home extra money, he shouldn’t be on his toes over this-

_Or maybe just tell your mother and get your head out of your ass._

“No. She doesn’t need to know. I want her to believe her son is thriving.” The amount of damage that he would do if he told her he was a stripper- no, he refused to think about it. She didn’t have to know. He’d pay off the loan with no help, and with his mother having no knowledge of it.

But the fear stayed lodged in the base of his spine.

After another sigh, Elliott collects his tips and puts them where the rest of his money hid, waiting to be deposited into his bank where they would then wait to be sucked right back out of his account with all the necessary purchases he had to make. 

He couldn’t ask his roommate to buy the groceries again. It was his turn. She already had it hard as it is, and Octavio blew most of his money on drugs, he barely had enough for his own bare essentials. Besides, he had to pay her next turn when it came to groceries to make it up to her. 

That night, Elliott had a hard time sleeping, even though exhaustion weighed deep within his limbs. 

The fear was eating at him.

* * *

It was a little after two thirty when Elliott woke up, his eyes slightly crusted over from the leftover makeup he failed to take off, his mouth stale and a strong need to use the restroom. He yawned loudly, his thretch popping his back in the best ways possible, a deep satisfaction settling within him. 

Too lazy to get up, Elliott lounged in his bed for a few minutes, until his bladder cried for relief, in which he groaned as he got up, the sun peeking in through the blinds and curtains blinding him. As soon as he got into his feet, another groan escaped his lips, but this time from the ache that plagued his muscles, and it was persistent. 

His shuffle to the bathroom was awkward, having stubbed his toe on his door frame, a quiet curse making its way past his lips as he bit his lip to stay quiet. 

Octavio seemed to still be asleep. 

After relieving himself, Elliott went back into his room to retrieve the bowl of his half eaten cereal from the night before, and he made himself some eggs and toast, noting silently to himself the things he needed to buy after his bank run. 

Elliott was busy scrolling on his phone when his roommate came out, her hair all tangled and face a mess of makeup. She spotted Elliott at the counter, a small smile appearing on her lips before she yawned. Padding over to the brunette, she peered over his shoulder at what he was doing on his phone, patting his shoulder as she went to scavenge for food.

“Good morning,” her voice muddled with remnants of sleep, it cracked halfway through her greeting.

“Good morning, Loba.” 

Settling for something simple, she made herself a bowl of cereal with what was left of it, and she stood next to him, eating half of it before she spoke up again.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days, how has it been?” Her accent had gotten better, not as thick as it first had been when they originally met. Loba was from Portugal; she had moved to the city for better opportunities. So far things haven't been kind to her, but she was as hard headed as optimistic.

She always said she was looking for something, she just didn’t know what yet.

They talked quietly together before Octavio joined their small party, leaning heavily on his cane. Going straight to the fridge, he pulled out a beer and drank half of it immediately, some dripping down his chin as he threw his head back to chug.

Loba looked on with disgust clear on his face, Elliott used to the display since he had known the daredevil since freshman year of college. 

“That’s fucking nasty.” Pushing off the counter, Loba announced that she was going to shower soon, so whoever needed to use the restroom or shower, they had to do it now. She always took over the bathroom for an hour, maybe even more, and Elliott wanted to get his errands done as soon as he could, so he made a beeline for the shower, calling out that he’d be quick.

Elliott took a quick hot shower, leaving his hair be, as he had washed it after his shift. Leaving the bathroom open for the other to take over, he did his hair quickly in his room and sprayed on a bit of cologne, slipping on a watch and sunglasses. Pocketing his phone and wallet, Elliott left the apartment with his pouch of tips and keys in hand.

The sun was at full force that day, the breeze absent as the brunet strolled down the sidewalk to get to the bus stop, and was pleased to see it was empty for a Saturday afternoon. The bus too, was surprisingly absent from a large crowd, especially as it was a bus that went into the center of the city. It was a pleasant ride, but Elliott was still glad when he climbed out, preferring a sunny walk. Thankfully there wasn’t a long line at the bank, and Elliott was able to see an employee a little after twenty five minutes. As the employee counted the cash, Elliott pulled out his phone to see a message from Octavio, asking him if he could buy a bit more beer if he was stopping by any grocery store or gas station. Half tempted to tell the man to ease off the alcohol, he agreed, only to get the other off his ass about it later. 

Thanking the employee as he handed him a receipt, Elliott made off to the bus stop again, preferring to do the shopping closer to home, so he wouldn’t have to carry as much back. 

The entire way back, his mind was back at the club, back to the girl who had stopped him as he was leaving. He felt really bad that he hadn’t been able to help her, even though it was out of his control. It really wasn’t his fault that his manager came and go; he just hoped that the man wasn’t in any sort of trouble again, after the time he got into a fight with one of the managers of The Apex, a club closer to the heart of the city, and a favorite among club goers. It was high end, and it paid its dancers well, and although it was tempting to go work there for Elliott, it wasn’t worth the travel back and forth. He didn’t know anyone who worked there either, and he had friends among the employees of the Paradise Lounge. He was comfortable where he worked.

Alexander just seemed like she wanted to talk to him about something, and the other man was just avoiding it. Barker usually doesn’t leave early, most of the time he’ll wait until Marv leaves before he takes his own leave, so it was painfully obvious that he was avoiding the female. To Elliott, it seemed like their meeting was scheduled, and she didn’t seem too happy that the other was dodging it. 

If she kept her word, she’d be there that day, and Elliott decided that he would seek her out and bring her to Barker. That is, if the man doesn’t forgo going to work completely just to avoid her. 

The brunet wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

The grocery run was quick, only grabbing basic supplies such as cereal, milk, bread and sugar. He added butter and a few chicken breasts for a food measure. He wanted to eat well before he left for his shift later for that day. The beer was added as an afterthought, Elliott not actually willing to hear Octavio whine about how he ‘forgot’ to grab his beer while out on his runs. Not again, at least. 

He was able to carry all the bags on one arm and the pack of beer in his other hand, the walk about five minutes as the apartment was close by. 

No one was home when Elliott made it back, so he took that time to put all the groceries away and get to work on at least sweeping the floors and wiping down the surfaces of their living room slash kitchen. The bathroom was wiped down and sweeped as well, the mirror finally clean after a week of specs invading one's reflection. 

In the background Elliott had his music playing, and with the place to himself, he danced around, singing out loud and moving his head to the beat making his curls bounce.

The deep rooted fear Elliott had felt the night before was gone with the wind, completely forgotten as he laughed to himself. It hadn’t been a foolish fear, but it wasn’t valid; Elliott knew that at the end of the day, he would be okay. If worst came to worst, he had his mother, and even if he was judged for it, he knew she would support him at the very least financially. 

With the broom in hand, it became his makeshift mic, twirling it with the beat of the song, his voice slightly echoing in the space. 

Cleaning did take a bit more time than usual, as the brunet had his own world tour in the center of his living room, but it was alright; he still had plenty of time to at least have a decent meal.

After the apartment was tidier, Elliott started to make lunch, deciding to make enough for his roommates in case they didn’t buy food while they were out. Digging through the drawers and cabinets, he found a box and a half of spaghetti, which he decided would be good with a few chicken breasts that he had bought earlier. With the butter and milk he had also bought, he could stir up a white sauce and cut up the chicken to have them simmer in it. As he worked, he hummed softly along with the music, his foot slightly tapping as he handled the knife. 

“Follow the leader, follow the leader…” singing softly, he turned around to grab the salt, and almost had a heart attack when he came face to face with Loba, who had a sly smile on her lips.

“Holy mother of fucks!” Holding his hand over his heart, he took a sharp inhale, his eyes narrowing on the woman who frightened him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” The little glint in her eyes said otherwise.

Finishing up the food, Elliott grabbed two plates and filled them, setting one in front of the other silently, who thanked him with a slight bow of her head while she put her phone away.

“You didn’t have to-“

“I wanted to.” Filling up his fork and taking a bite, the brunet thought, his fingers dancing on the slightly bumpy texture of the counter. They mostly ate in silence, but it was alright as it was comfortable between them. Loba didn’t get talkative until the night fell, usually. 

When the dishes were washed, dried, and put away, Elliott sank into his bed, his covers wrapping around him as he hadn’t made his bed earlier. After quick glance at the analog clock he kept on his bedside, he let out a long sigh.

The day had gone by so quickly. Didn’t even have time to practice his routine before work.

Instead of waiting the fifteen minutes he had left, the brunet got up to ready up his duffle, and shimmied into a pair of sweats, as the forecasts said it was gonna be chillier than the night before. Brushing his teeth and a quick handling of his hair, Elliott waved at Loba who sat on the couch and was on his way.

* * *

The pain that was buried within his heels and his back were reminding him to open his eyes.

Opening his eyes to the crowd, he got hollers when his shirt finally came off and tossed to the side of the stage. His legs wrapped around the pole harder so he could throw himself back, his hands brushing the floor when he reached for the base of the pole to pull off, spreading his legs into a split as he brought himself back onto the stage. Mirage pushed his ass back towards the crowd after he had gotten onto his knees, swaying his hips side to side as he had pushed himself up into the underdog position, his hands and feet planted flat on stage. 

He could feel all the eyes on him, and sometimes it made him self conscious. Especially when he felt as if a certain stare stood out, burning holes in his back.

Letting out a breath, Mirage swung himself around one last time, his heels clanking against the metal of the pole, creating a soft vibration throughout it that tickled the brunets fingertips. 

When the lights were dimmed and it was time for him to get off, his throat ached for water, a sudden cold sweat breaking out on his back. 

The first thing Mirage did when he entered the lounge was to go straight to the bathroom, locking himself in there, the lights turning on after sensing the motion. With his back to the door, Mirage stared at himself in the mirror before him, his makeup slightly smudged after his public routine, sweat collecting at his brow. 

His hands slightly shook behind him, as they were squished between the door and his back. His pupils were narrowed, the light harsh to his hazel eyes. 

Random anxiety attacks smack in the middle of his shifts were annoying and a mood killer. 

Pushing off the door, he turned on the water and washed his hands, then wet a few paper towels to pat against his heated face. His hands continued to shake as he shut off the water, where they trembled against the lip of the sink as he leaned on it, his head bowed down. 

Taking a few deep breaths to help compose himself, Mirage backed off, fixing his hair before he had to go back out onto the floor to entertain. Slapping on a quick smile to his lips, he exited the bathroom, almost colliding with one of the other dancers.

“My bad.” Mirage only sent a quick nod to them, not actually checking to see who it was he ran into, opting to just go out and get a shot from Marv to help calm down.

The shot did indeed help, and the second one Marv sent his way had his shoulders loosening up.

Hanging around the bar gave Mirage the opportunity to talk to some interesting characters. Most of the individuals who hung around the bar this late into the night were usually drunk if not tipsy, and he would receive some unusual requests. His conversations with said individuals would sometimes end abruptly when they would have to rush to the bathroom to throw up what they just drank, leaving the brunet to wander the room in search of people who wanted his services. 

When no one at the bar really caught his eye, Mirage walked around aimlessly. He was called over by an older looking male in the Blue room, which was named after the bright blue LED lights that surrounded the room and illuminated a pole that was currently occupied at the center of the room, one of the dancers leisurely dancing for extra tips. 

Mirage was asked to sit down in his lap, in which the young male cringed inwardly at, especially when the other tapped his lap expectantly and licked his lips, that familiar glint in his eye. The things he did for money. For the next half hour, he just sat in the man’s lap, listening in on their conversation, not specifically asked to do anything. 

The man just wanted a pretty thing to wrap his arm around. 

During that time, his eyes wandered the room, hopping from person to person in an attempt to keep him entertained. He watched as the dancer up on the small center stage was pulled off by a customer, smiling sweetly to them as they were pulled into one of the back rooms for a private dance with a sway to their hips. His eyes then bounced over to two girls fighting in the corner, and Mirage expected a fight to happen before a third woman intervened, one of the girls getting a harsh slap to their wrist as if that would make them behave.

Jumping a little as the older male pulled him back into the conversation, Mirage had to stop himself from cringing and pulling back when the fan’s foul breath fanned across his face.

“You mind getting us a few shots, dear?” He was handed a wad of cash that was definitely more than what a few shots cost, but he wasn’t about to complain. 

“I’ll be right back, sugar.” Winking at the customer, Mirage almost gagged at what he just said, but kept his composure as he made his way back to the bar to ask Marv for a few shots of whiskey. While the man got that ready, the brunet laid over the counter, watching the other male make the drinks, wishing he could be back there. Sadly he wasn’t allowed to help Marv on days that the club wasn’t brimming, which hadn’t happened in some time since The Apex has introduced a supposedly ‘very sexy’ dancer that made many flock over there like a murder of crows. When he was handed the shots, Mirage thanked him as he turned, almost running into another customer and spilling the drinks over them. Just barely managing to stop the glasses from tipping, Mirage was already apologizing at his mistake.

“I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t see you there-“ stopping abruptly, the brunet recognizes who it was. The woman before him obviously recognized him to.

“Alexander, right?” Yelling over the music, the red head smiled and nodded, her features looking different in the red lighting. “Did you manage to talk to my manager?”

Stuffing her hands into her pockets, her smile stretched further.

“I did! Thank you.” Eyeing the bar behind him, she looked back at him. “He can be quite the slimy bastard, but you are practically guaranteed to see him at the nearest bar.”

“Even at his own.” 

Mirage snorted at that, looking at the bar himself over his shoulder.

“I hope he gave you no trouble. I know how he can be sometimes.” 

Waving her hands around in the air as she shook her hair, Alexander laughed. 

“No, of course not. He knew he couldn’t run from us even if he tried.” 

At the mention of ‘us’ the brunet looked around but saw that the redhead wasn’t with anyone at the moment. They might have already gone home and left the girl to her own devices.

“Don’t let me keep you, you seem to be busy.” Eyeing the four shot glasses Mirage was handling, she stepped out from in front of him to let him pass. Bowing his head in thanks with a smile, he went to move forward but was actually stopped when her hand rested on his shoulder. 

“Actually, do you mind if I ask for your services? Not for me, but for my brother. He has been really stressed recently, and I think that you could help him a bit with that.” She had a mischievous look in her eyes, and she bounced in place as she awaited his answer. 

He informed her where she could book a private dance from him, and then they were both going their separate ways. 

After he served the party of men their drinks, he politely excused himself, as he had appointments to get to. He promised them to come by later and see if they were still there, and if they were he’d hang with them. 

He didn’t actually mean it. 

Making a quick stop at the lounge to freshen up, he bumped into Wraith who was heading to her own appointments. Wishing her good luck, Mirage tended to his own appearance by touching up his makeup and making sure his hair looked good. Changing into a new outfit and into shoes that didn’t absolutely kill his feet, he sprayed some cologne to finish it up. 

The black curtain that led to the back rooms seemed to taunt him as he got closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be longer, but I decided to save a certain scene for the next chapter. I do want to get these chapters to 6k to maybe 7k in length, it shouldn’t be hard as I do that for one of my main fics. Let’s see how this goes

**Author's Note:**

> See ya'll next chapter!!!
> 
> Spot a grammar mistake? Notify me!


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